The internet has recently been swept up by the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Is there a cause — social, political, cultural, or other — you passionately believe in? Tell us how you got involved — or why you don’t get involved. From the Daily Post
I don’t believe in one single cause. I believe in humanity. I believe in our ability to transcend our animal roots and reach for the stars. I believe in science. We have delved into the cell and manipulated the very building blocks of life. We can create new species, discover new worlds, and dream such wondrous dreams.
Yet, no matter what epoch of history you throw a dart at, you’ll find those attempting to oppress. Attempting to enslave, to put down, to dominate. There have always been people who are willing to limit the potential of humanity.
Then, there is another type of people, like the one featured, Sam, in the short vignette below. This is the person who recognizes what is wrong with the world, who understands the injustice, yet still does nothing. The ol’ 9-5 daily grind. I must confess, I too exist in the shadowy, unsubstantial population of people. There are often times when I can barely work up the conviction to care about my life, much less the lives of others. But, like I said in the beginning: I believe in humanity. We can overcome our apathy, our indifference, and if we really truly believe, we can cause meaningful change in this beautiful world we live in.
Sam sat down onto his media-cliner and waved listlessly at the viewport to start up his feed. It had been a difficult day at work – his boss had been jacked up on a stim, adreno he supposed, and had been all over his ass about those goddamn TPS reports. Who even reads those anyways? He sighed as Transgene’s “intensive security measures” into Haiti flickered across the viewport. Reaching for a dopa-stim, he pondered once again the futility of it all. He pressed the patch to his inner elbow, barely noticing the microneedles puncturing the delicate skin. I mean, I’m just another cog in the wheel, less than essential, less than vital, Sam thought. And the goddamn machine, fueled by the rapacious appetite of Transgene and its satellite corporations was too behemoth to be budged by a peon such as he. But maybe, maybe if he found some like minded people, they banded together….
Sam’s head lolled back as the dopa-stim took effect. Sighing happily, he thumbed the sonic pulsator and let the music vibrate over him. The music was auto-generated from an algorithm predicting patterns based on stim injection.
One door over Lucy was languidly swaying in her media-cliner to an opio-stim.
One door over the same.
In fact, everyone in the entire building was on one stim or another, often in their media-cliners. Each discarded patch on each dimly lit floor in each dungy too-small apartment was labelled with the iconic intertwined T and G of Transgene.
All cogs to one massive machine, grinding, grinding away.